


No Stakes to Claim

by fem_castielnovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet, Episode: s05e04 The End, Gen, Jealous Dean, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-17 05:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5855872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/fem_castielnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt<br/>Endverse!Dean jealous of Past!Dean making Cas laugh and smile, it reminds Dean of when they used to have space for jokes and happiness in their old life and makes him realize once more the magnitude of the distance between them</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Stakes to Claim

**Author's Note:**

> _Scene: Dean’s line of thought as he and his not-so-merry band of misfits pack up to go to the last showdown_

 

 

The joke is something inane.  He – his past self – makes a comment that has Dean sneering. It might have been a Star Wars reference. Castiel erupts with laughter, actually holding a hand to his belly and squinting his eyes closed in captivated amusement. His past self looks confused that Cas even managed to catch the remark, much less react appropriately.   
_Overreact,_ Dean thinks. The laugh is genuine but only Castiel would find the remark so amusing.

Dean can’t remember watching Star Wars with Castiel. He wonders who had that ~~pleasure~~ , ~~honor~~ , _opportunity_. It would have been interesting to say the least. And Cas is sure to have watched those movies twice at minimum. There’s too much biblical symbolism and character depth for him not to.

When he thinks about it, Dean isn’t sure they ever sat down together and watched a- no. There was one time: within the first few days of Dean hearing the rumor that Sam was headed off to find Lucifer and say yes. Dean was holed up God knows where after more than two days of uninterrupted driving. It had been what Dean now sees was a fruitless effort to reach Sam in time to stop him.  
Drunk out of his mind, he’d sat himself down in front of a black and white movie. About halfway through, Cas had popped in and, finding Dean too plastered to work, he’d sat with him and they’d watched the film together. The signal cut out before the end and Dean, as inebriated as he was, summarized the closing scene for him.   
Dean can hardly recall any of it. He was too tired, too drunk, and it was too long ago.  
Back when there was still television and wings.

 

He wants to remember the last time he made Castiel laugh.

 

 

 _“What? I like past you!”_   
In the moment after it was said, Dean had moved around the remark and the clenching it left inside his chest. But it made a damning break in what was left of him. And every smile and glance Cas tosses _his_ way etches another crack.

 

 

He wonders if he’d ever made Castiel cry.

 

He’s made Castiel yell before.   
They’ve had their fair share of arguments, though Cas has only raised his voice on the rarest of occasions. The spats could have been expected; Cas doesn’t agree with him on everything. Throughout their relationship, from the very beginning, to the start of the apocalypse, and even now, they’ve fought to find common ground. But by this point when Cas argues, Dean is assured that there’s a good reason, even if he personally never comes around to it. In any case Cas will comply with Dean’s final say – he stopped caring too long ago to do anything but acquiesce. Dean thinks he knows when to listen to him.

Listening to himself is another matter entirely.

He needs his past self to say yes to Michael.  
This world is shit and no one deserves to live in it. Dean would bet good money that even Lucifer isn’t happy with the way things are.   
He remembers how it felt: those first few days after the separation that his past self has only recently experienced. He clutches to the ghosts of ideas about what his relationships with his brother and the once-angel used to be. He can’t bother with what it could have been. There isn’t any point to it. Not even comfort.

 

 

Dean shoves a box into the back of his jeep. He doesn’t know where his past self has gotten off to. Cas is still smiling at the joke when Dean looks up at him for the third time in as many minutes. Cas shuts his car door and turns to face him. His expression must be more stern than he intends if Cas’s remark is anything to go by:

“C’mon Dean, that was funny. Lighten up.”

“I would, if I had a laugh left in me,” he oozes condescension, but his words betray him.   
_I wish I had a laugh left in me._

Cas rolls his eyes and turns to wander back for more supplies.   
Dean watches him walk away.

 

Dean can’t bring himself to even hope that he and Cas would find a way to be together in that world. A world where he’d said yes.

It’s … he’s so lonely. He shouldn’t think of it. They’re too close already.

Talking about it isn’t necessary. They aren’t together now, and they won’t be. Not with the way things are. Neither of them bother pretending anymore. The longing glances have faded in frequency and intensity, and the flirting stopped years ago.   
As if there were room for love between them in this horror-riddled world. There was barely room to breathe, much less have any serious attachments. Neither he nor Cas are willing to risk the fragile relationship that the two of them have by adding love or sex to the mix. And with them it would end up being both.

Both would be twice as messy. Twice as tragic in the end.  
So they choose nothing – they choose limitation and reserved natures. Quiet nights in empty beds. Or wrongly-noisy ones in beds full of substitutes.

It's more strategic this way.

 

Dean doesn’t put a lot of stock into anything anymore, but he’s sure that Cas knows Dean is in love with him. After all, Dean knows the reverse is true. And Dean is certain that Cas, in all his hyper-intelligence, and super-awareness, had likely realized both things _well_  before Dean had. But as long as neither of them acts on it they’ll be safe.

It’s that sort of discretion that keeps them alive. Alive, and trusting each other. Even as distantly as they do.

Dean doesn’t need all the fingers on one hand to count the number of people he can trust. Cas is the first person on that list and the only one he’s always honest with. It’s necessity. There isn’t frivolous conversation that would require lying or secrets anyhow. Honesty is survival. So they’re both totally honest with each other, with subtlety about what doesn’t necessarily need to be said. And it really shouldn’t be said.

Then again, Dean can’t help thinking that his initial line of thought was skewed. It’s not that he and Cas “could have been” – it’s _“could still be”_ if his past self says yes.   
But there’s the “if.” _God,_ why does he bother?   
It still counts as wondering even if the theoretic is so near to future realities.   
And if he knows himself as well as he thinks he does _(who alive would know him better?)_ then even with this warning, he won’t say “yes.”   
There isn’t one goddam thing in existence that could get _that_ Dean – the person he was when he and Sam separated – to give the no holds barred go-ahead for actively facilitating the apocalypse. Not when he was _(is)_ the one who started it by breaking that first seal.

It’s why he isn’t allowed to, and wouldn’t ever ask for more. He doesn’t know what else could feasibly be offered to him but he’s already got more than he should. Even if all it amounts to is barely a fighting chance.   
Dean’s laid aside weighing what he does and doesn’t deserve. Too often it overlaps with what could save the few people who cling to life in this world.   
He has what he’s got. It doesn’t matter if he likes it.   
His only concern is the mission and he settles his mind with the thoughts that these survivors should get a chance to make it. As painful as it is, he’s grateful to have a companion until the end.

Cas has affirmed it over the years and Dean doesn’t bother denying it. He knows Cas sticking with him for so long is another sign of love. Even as he takes comfort in the knowledge, he can see that Cas is unhappy. And it gnaws at Dean.

He hates to watch Cas’s search for the smallest glories. It’s desperate and endless. His bubbly, nonchalant personality becomes more natural when he’s high, and watching it empties Dean. The highest highs leave them both at the lowest lows.

It sucks ass.  
It fucking sucks ass and makes Dean want to get too close to the ex-angel.   
_If he could just get close …_

He wants to take his hand, breathe into his ear that _‘it will be alright, they’ll find a way. Together’_. Partly because he longs to hear them said back. Reciprocation. He wants hands that clutch shoulders and elbows for too long, then don’t release their grip. To be allowed to share food and wrap blankets over shoulders. Or God forbid, _hug_ him.   
If he gave into that urge, Dean wouldn’t ever let go.

All such innocent requests, but none of them safe.

 

He wishes he had it in him to make a reference, tell a lewd joke maybe. Cas would enjoy those now. The most Dean can bring himself to do is drop snide, sarcastic remarks and punch out bitter, cynical commentary.

It isn’t enough. Cas has always related too well to those to laugh at them.

And that’s what does it. What cements the idea that he could never make Cas happy, not in the life he’s living – the lives they’re both living now. He can’t make Cas laugh like that; genuine and soft and with his nose all crinkled and mostly gums showing.  
Hell, Dean can’t for the life of him remember the last thing that brought even a smile to his own face.   
He resists the urge to sigh because it was probably Cas.   
It’s always Cas.

 

 

There’s rhythm and noise as people come out of their cabins and head out to do chores.   
All of it feels like Dean is doing what he’s supposed to be doing.  
Even if his past self looks at him like he can’t recognize his own living reflection. But what would he know? He gets to look at what Cas is going to become with objectivity and find premature worry for matters he has no control over. Or, only so much control as a "yes" will get him.   
And he doesn’t know how it’s going to feel when the guilt of parting from Sam doesn’t drop like a heavy weight on his back, but seeps into his pores and his bones and his brain and consumes his heart. There is only confusion and anger where the pain and loss haven’t settled in because this place doesn’t seem real. How can it, when he hasn’t had to live through the past five years?

 

There isn’t a way to undo this.

 

 

Dean takes one more look at the paper in his hands. He folds it carefully, runs his finger along the crease. The bumps are weird against the pad of his finger and the paper is too dry. He resists the urge to unfold it. There’s nothing to stall for. It gets tucked in his pocket as he takes one more look around the camp.

“Load up!”

 

 

He lets Cas ride with his past self.   
The angel deserves one more laugh.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Exits are to your left, your right, and your rear, restrooms are to the front, Kudos and comments are found below, and as always, very appreciated. Thank you for flying Air fem-castielnovak.


End file.
